


work song

by glitterprincee



Series: sing me a song, baby? [1]
Category: Captain America
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Crying, Kissing, M/M, Post Civil War, Pre-War Bucky, Slight feminization, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, implied sex, pre-serum steve, steve kisses the bad away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterprincee/pseuds/glitterprincee
Summary: this is my dissertation of 'work song' by hozier, which i firmly believe was written for steve and bucky. listen to the song before you read (or during) to see what i mean. this fic is my textual evidence. my english teacher would be so proud.





	work song

1938

 _boys working on empty, is that the kinda way to face the burning heat_  
_i just think about my baby, i'm so full of love i can barely eat_  
_there's nothing sweeter than my baby, i'd never want once from the cherry tree_  
_cause my baby's sweet as can be, she'd give me tooth aches just from kissin me_

 

It was mid-July, the hottest it ever got in Brooklyn, stifling and humid, like you had to breathe through a rag held over your nose. Bucky swiped sweat off his brow for what felt like the thousandth time that day. _God it was so fucking hot._ His shirt was plastered to his back, brunette curls dripping down his forehead. He had to blink rapidly to keep the droplets out of his eyes. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could catch the breeze coming off the river down at the docks, but today there was no such luck and no such breeze. It was pure, suffocating heat.

"S'fuckin' hell on earth," he heard someone grumble to his left. Bucky could sympathize.

The work was tiresome and long and brutal, lifting box after box, piling crate after crate. It was endless; every time Bucky swore that was the last of the day, there were 50 more in its place. The call for lunch was a minimal relief. He sidled off to the shade with some of the guys he worked with as they pulled from their brown paper bags to wolf down much needed food. Except for Bucky. He had a stale end of a bread roll and that was all.

"Barnes, where the fuck is the rest of your lunch?" one of the guys questioned, around a bite of his sandwich. "Y'know they'll can you in a second if you pass out on the job, oughta eat something."

Bucky shrugged as he tore off a bit of bread. "Gave my girl the rest of what we had today, she needs it more'n me."

That earned him some wolf whistles and a shove or two. Bucky kept his composure, but couldn't hide the way his lips curled at the corners as he fought back a smile.

"This'll make for a good story, who's the lucky dame, Barnes?"

Bucky leaned back against the wall, looking deep in concentration, as if he was considering whether or not to actually tell them about how lucky he is to have a girl like he does. Part of him wants to keep it a secret, so only he and his girl know. But, he could never shut up about her for too long anyhow.

"Well," he pulled it out long and slow, "she's a real catch, fellas, I'll tell you what." He paused, smiling to himself. "She's a tiny, slip of a thing - I could put both my hands right 'round her waist if I tried. She's got this beautiful blonde hair, soft as angels wings, and these eyes like you wouldn't believe, the clearest blue! But they get all stormy when she's angry, my girls got a hell of a temper. She can be real sweet, though. Swear I get toothaches just from kissin' her."

The guys all put up a real ruckus at that, laughing and giving Bucky hell for being so damn in love.

"Ya gonna marry this dame, Barnes? Seems like she's got you wrapped around her finger."

Bucky tilted his head back and sighed. "Yeah, I'm gonna marry her, one day, when I get my head on right."

It was nearly dark when Bucky made his way home. Steve was sitting primly on the couch, sketchbook in his lap, when Bucky wearily trudged his way through the door. His stomach rumbled mournfully at the prospect of no dinner that night.

"Hey, Buck," Steve greeted, shuffling his way over to him while he removed his outer shirt and dirty boots at the door. "How was work?"

"Oh, hell, Stevie, it was hot as only the devil knows out today. Not even a breeze to help a fella out," Bucky said forlornly, his shoulders slumped against the door, the mere memory of the midday heat sapping the last of his energy.

Steve looked up at him, eyes apologetic, but mostly angry. "Told you you didn't need'ta go givin' me your lunch, Bucky, workin' all day in the heat like that. You tryna work yourself to death?"

Bucky smirked. "Ain't got need of it, I was still full of your lovin' from last night."

Steve flushed red at that, which only made Bucky's smile grow wider. He reached out and took Steve's little wrist in his large hand and pulled him in close, so much so that their chests were nearly touching.

"Was tellin' the guys down at the dock 'bout how i got a nice, pretty dame waitin' on me back at home," Bucky whispered low. Steve's blush deepened, sweeping beneath his shirt. "I was tellin' 'em about how she's so tiny I could fit my hands around her, like this." Bucky released Steve's wrist and placed both his hands on slender hips, pulling their fronts together and pushing a small gasp out of Steve. "I was sayin' how she's stubborn as all hell, with a temper enough for ten men. And how she's so sweet, god she tastes like sugar when I kiss her."

"Bucky-"

Bucky lowered his head, brushing his lips against the corner of Steve's mouth.

"You sweet, baby? Gonna give me some of your sugar, let me fill up on that, hm? Be sweet to me, baby, won't you please?"

"God, Buck," Steve exhaled against his mouth.

Bucky moved and covered Steve's lips with his own, hard and bruising, meant to claim. He pulled Steve closer, snaking one arm around his waist, his hand coming to settle at the nape of his neck. Steve whimpered into his mouth, as Bucky pulled them even closer together, his touch rough with possessiveness. He kissed Steve, and Steve had let him, until they were both gasping for air. Bucky bit at Steve's bottom lip as he pulled away from the kiss, and god - Steve's lips were wet and shining and the perfect shade of cherry red. Bucky grinned.

"See, sweetheart? Ain't got no need of a meal, all I need is you," he promised, before closing the gap between them once more and lifting Steve to carry him off to bed.

 

2014 to 2016

 _boys when my baby found me, i was three days on a drunken sin_  
_i woke with her walls around me, nothing in her room but an empty crib_  
_and i was burning up a fever, i didn't care much how long i lived  
but i swear i thought i dreamed her, she never asked me once about the wrong i did_

  
Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. That's what the man on the bridge had said, before the Asset beat him to a near bloody pulp and watched as the man fell into the murky water below. Looking at him had hurt, like his chest was being ripped open and stuffed and then wired shut. When the blonde man had looked into his eyes - no one looked him in the eyes - and told him to finish it, something within the Asset broke. He saw the ghost of a man, a boy, with a tiny frame and the same determined eyes, flit behind his eyes. And his heart, the Asset hadn't know he even had a heart, with all the terrible things he's done. But his heart ached with sorrow and grief when he looked down at the man beneath him. Something - someone - inside him was screaming, clawing up to the surface, begging him to _stop stop please stop, don't hurt him, you swore never to hurt him!_ How could the Asset have sworn not to hurt him? Everything he knew was pain and cold, hurt was the language he knew best.

"'Cause I'm with you 'till the end of the line."

And it felt like he was being put back in cryo all over again as the harsh, cold realization washed over him. _I knew him._ And then he was falling. And the Asset had a choice. He could return to his handlers, let them wipe him and start over and he would forget all about the man on the bridge. But the someone inside him knew that he would never be able to forget the man, no matter how many times they took his memories, no matter how many times they put him back in the cold. So he did what the Asset was never allowed to: he made a choice. And that choice was to jump into the water after him and pray for forgiveness on the run.

He ran all over the world, destroying Hydra with a flash of metal and the smell of gunpowder lingering in his hair when the damage had been done. This was his penance for all the wrong he had done; running and destroying. He wouldn't rest until he could be face to face with the man on the bridge again with proof that he could be good. And he knew that the man was following him, he wasn't subtle in scattering the ashes he had reduced Hydra to, but the Asset was always two steps ahead. It wasn't time to be found, he wasn't pure yet. He wasn't clean.

He wasn't near done with Hyrda when the Vienna bombing surfaced, his face plastered on every television and newsstand. No one would believe that he didn't do it, that he made the choice not to do that anymore, that he was slowly trying to become a man again and not just the Asset. No one except -

So he let himself be found, let the man on the bridge into his apartment, let the man think he didn't know exactly who he was.

"Do you know me?"

Of course the Asset knows him.

"You're Steve. I read about you in a museum."

And the man saw right through his facade.

"I know you're nervous, and you have plenty reason to be - but you're lying."

The voice inside him, the ghost of James Barnes was calling out to him - to Steve - and the Asset was tempted to let James simply have control, to allow himself to be soft as he opened his heart to Steve, he was so tired of running. But there were hostiles approaching with the order to kill on sight. Now wasn't the time for the ghost. He wasn't clean yet, but he was better, so the Asset made the choice to tell Steve "I don't do that anymore." It wasn't the time for the ghost, but it was time for the truth.

"Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive."

 _I wouldn't take me alive either._ Part of him wanted to ask Steve if he would put him down, put him out of his misery, and finally let him rest. But even if the Asset didn't have James Barnes inside him, he would have known that the man on the bridge would never even dream of it. That wasn't an option.

When the hostiles infiltrated his apartment, Steve didn't even hesitate to pull him behind the shield - his symbol of righteousness - clutching onto him tightly, the unspoken fear of letting the Asset slip from his grasp again. The Asset didn't have to produce his list of destroyed Hydra facilities or rescued hostages to prove to the man that he was good. All he had said was "I don't do that anymore" and it had been enough. Enough for Steve to protect him. He didn't ask about the good or the bad. He never asked about the wrong the Asset had done. He had simply taken him at his word and pulled him behind the shield, unwilling to let go.

   
2017

 _my baby never fret none about what my hands and my body done_  
_if the lord don't forgive me, i'd still have my baby and my babe would have me_  
_when i was kissin' on my baby, and she put her love down soft and sweet  
in the lowland plot i was free, heaven and hell were words to me_

 

It had been nearly a year since the war between the avengers had passed. Steve was no longer a wanted criminal and he and Tony had made something of amends. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

Bucky had been out of cryofreeze for five months, choosing to stay in Wakanda under close observation just in case the unthinkable happened and he reverted back into the Asset. He made T'challa promise that if ever became to far gone and was a threat to Steve, that he would subdue him. By any means necessary. This was a promise that Steve didn't need to know about. But it had been five months and the trigger words seemed to be gone. He was learning how to be James Buchanan Barnes again.

His memories were foggy most of the time. Some things, he could never forget, like the way Steve had a reckless streak, the self-sacrificing idiot. Or the way Steve liked his coffee - black with two sugars. But some things were harder to come by, they were hazy and dreamlike. The memories were there but Bucky couldn't grab them. He hated the disappointed look Steve got on his face, though he tried to hide it, when he admitted to not sharing in the nostalgia. Steve was ever patient - he never pushed, never asked for too much, and would always gently recount the memory to Bucky in that soft, kind tone he had. But Bucky had a feeling that, sometimes, Steve was keeping things to himself, like he was afraid of the outcome if Bucky did remember.

From what he could piece together, he knew for certain that he and Steve were close, always had been. He remembered the cold nights in their tiny apartment where he pulled Steve to his front to keep the shivers from shaking him apart. He remembered all the double dates he set them up on, only to spend most of the night staring at Steve when the dame turned her nose up at him. He remembered warming water on their stove so that Steve might have a warm bath to wash away the grime from another alley fight. And he remembered always wanting to press comfort kisses into the bruised skin. But he couldn't remember if he ever did. Did Steve know? That even after all this time, he still wanted to kiss him better? Bucky decided that it was better than he not ask about those memories. It was selfish really, but he didn't think he could stand hearing Steve reject him because of all the things he'd done. Steve wanted the Bucky Barnes from the past, the one with the charming smile and easygoing laughter, not this one in the future, with a torn up arm and a fucked up mind.

He still had nightmares. More often than not, he would wake up screaming himself hoarse and reaching for the gun that wasn't there. Steve would come into his room, slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wounded animal, and comfort Bucky until he had calmed, shushing him sweetly and whispering gentle reminders into his hair: _you're here with me, you're safe, don't worry Bucky, no one will hurt you again._ Then he would lay by his side until the sun came up. Bucky would fake sleep to make Steve feel better. And he would watch him quietly leave every morning at dawn, never there when Bucky opened his eyes for real.

The worst nightmare came one night after a serious debriefing concerning his activities and missions as the Asset. Steve had adamantly been against it, only ceasing his tirade when Bucky fixed his face with a small, forced smile, and a promise that he would be alright. He was not alright. Not when he dreamed of the Asset's metal arm wrapping around the slender throat of a boy with sharp lines and soft angel hair, choking the life out of him. He woke with a shout and Steve's arms around him, comforting him gently the way he always did. And then Bucky was crying.

"Steve, Stevie - oh my god, Steve -" his chest was heaving, he couldn't form a single coherent thought.

He felt Steve's hand card through his hair as he shushed him. "It's alright, Bucky, I'm here, you're alright now."

Bucky gripped onto him harder as he cried. "I was killing you, Steve, I - I'm no good, I was hurting you, they were making me." His voice was unsteady.

"No one's gonna ever hurt you again, I won't let them, you're safe, baby, don't worry," Steve promised vehemently. Bucky's mind short circuited on the endearment _baby_ and the wavering tone in Steve's voice. Maybe Bucky was imagining what he wanted to hear, but he couldn't stop himself from hoping, couldn't stop the memories from bubbling up and spilling over.

"I - Steve, I -" he was babbling, nonsense forcing its way into his mouth as it threatened to ruin everything he was trying to keep a secret.

Steve shifted Bucky in his arms so that they were looking at each other.

"What is it, Bucky?" he asked, his eyes blue with worry. "Do - do you remember -?" he trailed off, like it was too much to ask for, even with the hope glittering behind his eyes.

Bucky's eyesight blurred as he tried to keep his tears from spilling over. The look on Steve's face was too much, it closed Bucky's throat up, choking him on the words. He nodded and lowered his eyes to hide the tears as they fell. Steve didn't say anything, waiting for Bucky, as he continued to hold onto him.

Bucky wiped his eyes on his sleeve and sighed brokenly as he confessed. "Yeah, Steve, I - I remember."

Steve made a punched out noise. When Bucky looked up again, his eyes were watering too.

"What?"

Bucky's chest tightened. He was doing it again, he was hurting Steve again. He was being so selfish, too damn selfish.

Steve took Bucky's face in his hand, cupping his cheek and bringing his eyes up to meet Steve's own. "Please, Buck, you can tell me," he said, a tear tracking down his face.

And then Bucky was breaking. "I remember that I love you."

Steve's face crumpled and Bucky couldn't stand to hear what he knew was coming. Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky shook his head and spoke over him. He couldn't stand to hear it, he just couldn't.

"I've always loved you, Steve, it's always been you. And I know that you don't want me anymore, that you want the Bucky from the past, and that's okay." It wasn't. "I've done so much bad since I fell, and I know that you don't want me anymore. But I remembered that I love you."

Steve was crying in earnest now, cheeks flushed as sobs escaped his chest. Bucky wanted to die, he had hurt Steve by being selfish. This hurt worse than seeing the bullet wound he left in Steve's abdomen.

"How -" Steve started, hiccuping over a sob. "How could you think that I don't want you anymore? Bucky - god - Bucky, I love you, I never stopped. Not when you got shipped off to war, not when you fell, not when you pulled me from the river." He took his hand from Bucky's cheek and grabbed his metal hand, pressing it to his abdomen where the bullet wound lay. "Not when you put a bullet it me. I never stopped loving you."

Bucky couldn't understand. "You don't love me, Steve, you love _him_. I'm not him anymore, I've done so many terrible things, I couldn't ever earn your love -"

"You don't have to be the old Bucky, you're here now and I love you. I don't care about what bad your hands have done. You're alive and I never stopped loving you."

Bucky took his hand from Steve's stomach and hesitantly brought it up to rest against the side of Steve's face, hooking his thumb around his ear. He gently brushed away the tears still steadily falling from Steve's eyes with that thumb.

"You love me, Stevie? After all this, all I've done, you really do?" he whispered.

Steve sniffled and nodded, a small smile quirking his lips up. "Yes, Buck, I love you. I really do."

And that's all it took to have all the walls inside James Barnes come completely undone. He swiftly pulled Steve forward, crushing their lips together for the first time in over 70 years. His cheeks were wet by Steve's tears as he cried into the kiss, breaking every so often to softly exhale against Bucky's lips, _i love you, you came back to me, i love you._ Bucky couldn't find his words; he let his kisses speak for him. The last vestiges of the Asset were gone. He was clean now, he was whole. Kissing Steve had brought him home.

Steve's hands were back on him in an instant, pulling Bucky closer to him. Bucky could feel the heat radiating off his skin as he draped his leg over Steve's lap, straddling him as he delved his tongue deeper into Steve's mouth. He sat back, resting his full weight on Steve's lap, breaking the kiss when Steve let out a low gasp.

"Been wantin' to do this since I remembered," Bucky confessed against Steve's lips, still as cherry red as they used to be.

"So shut up and do it," Steve demanded, slipping his hands up Bucky's shirt and letting his hands roam up and down his back. Bucky rocked down again and Steve tightened his grip as another soft, sweet sound escaped him.

"Still stubborn as always," Bucky murmured.

"Please, Bucky, you gotta - I need you, missed you, please." Steve was working himself up, breathing reminiscent of their youth when Bucky would help him through an asthma attack. He was holding onto Bucky so tightly there would no doubt be bruises; the thought made Bucky hot.

"Calm down, baby," Bucky said as he leaned down for another kiss, swallowing Steve's whimpers. "Ain't gotta cry, won't ever leave you like that again, I'm so sorry, honey."

Steve leaned away, placing his thumb gently on Bucky's lips to keep him from chasing the kiss. His watery eyes met Bucky's and Steve could see it too; Hydra didn't have a hold on him anymore.

"Buck," Steve whispered, eyes flicking down to fix on Bucky's lips. "Do you think that - that maybe we could...? Like we used to?"

Bucky gave him a small smile. "Yeah, baby, of course we can," was all he said before laying Steve out on his back, soft and sweet, and went to work making up for 70 years of lost time. Steve cried when Bucky sank deep into him, peppering him with kisses and bites and declarations of love. Steve was perfect heat around him, making sweet noises every time Bucky moved in him. Nothing mattered but the man beneath him, the one he had loved all his life. Even if no one believed that he was good, even if he went to hell for the things he'd done, it didn't matter. He had Steve. And Steve had wanted him back.

"I love you, Stevie," Bucky said, leaning down to kiss the tears from his baby's face. "Nothin's gonna keep me from you again, not even dyin'."

Steve choked out a sob, bringing his legs up around Bucky's waist and pulling him deeper.

"I'm with you 'til the end of the line," Steve whispered hoarsely.

"'Til the end of the line."

Bucky sealed his promise with a kiss.

 

_when my time comes around,_ _lay me gently in the cold dark earth  
no grave can hold my body down, _ _i'll crawl home to her._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i might turn this idea into a song series - whenever a song remindes me of the boys, i'll write it into a fic. i'm so soft for these two. 
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @deadairhostage ❤️


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